


Projectionist, meet Tommy Gun

by JustABeeWithAPen



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alice only gets 3 lines don't get excited, First time writer, Henry is enjoying this way too much, Henry is probably super ooc but it's fine, Minor Violence, One-Shot, bang bang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustABeeWithAPen/pseuds/JustABeeWithAPen
Summary: Henry found himself some firepower, and he sure as hell is going to use it.
Kudos: 12





	Projectionist, meet Tommy Gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cinderdraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinderdraco/gifts).



> This story idea came to me when I watched my friend (and one of my beta readers) basically enjoying herself way too much as she gunned down the projectionist. She thinks he is the scariest enemy in the game, I disagree the butcher gang gave me the willies, so I wrote a story about her being a murder hobo.
> 
> My other beta readers seemed to like it (but we did some extra editing) so I guess this one isn't that bad. Hurray!

With a splat of a body hitting the inky waves, slowly melting into its currents, the Projectionist stared at his prize. A much too realistic human heart was thumping in his hand, ink oozing out of its valves and spilling down his wrist.

The inky creature paid this no heed, instead turning his head and tossing the object onto a nearby crate. It landed on the box with a wet thump, unheard by the Projectionist as he continued back on his path.

Very few toons ever ventured into his labyrinth. The smarter ones had learned from the stupider ones and stopped coming. Yet every once in a while, one unfortunate Butcher gang member would find themself at the receiving end of his claws.

The Projectionist liked it this way; dark, quiet, and empty. He could let his body go numb to the pain as he trudged his path. 

Swinging his body around a bend, head bobbing up and down with each step, the Projectionist found himself in the widest part of the room. The part he liked the least. While he never felt tempted to go up the stairs himself, many creatures had stumbled in from there, touching his things and disturbing his peace.

Unbeknownst to him, that was exactly what had happened now. 

As he had almost reached the turn which led back into the narrow halls he so loved, a familiar twinge ran down his back, pestering old pains which were eager to be remembered. 

Flipping around much faster than a creature of his size had any right to, the Projectionist found the source of his pain and released an ear-splitting scream. His harsh light made making out details hard, but he couldn’t care less about the details. Someone was in his maze, his home, his life! Stretching his arms out he began to charge, already imagining how their skin would tear under his claws. 

Then something hit him, causing him to slow his advance. It wasn’t painful, just a small thud against the ink which made up his body. He started to move again only for another to bop into him, and then another, and another, and another, and another. What had started as only a light pitter of rain had become a full-fledged storm as the small objects pierced his inky hide. Slowly and painfully, the Projectionist tried to reach his prey, his screech increasing in volume as the storm started to tear apart his body. 

Then he heard something, the first thing in a very long time. The sound of glass shattering. 

And the Projectionist knew no more.

\----------------------------------------------

Panting, Henry stopped his assault on the monster when it collapsed to the floor in a heap, bullets having mangled it’s already ruined body. For a moment, he had been afraid the bullets weren’t going to do anything, that all that work would be for naught and he’d be forced to sneak through the maze the hard way.

Dropping the tommy gun with a splat, leaning against a pole for support as his knees threatened to give out on him, Henry began to laugh. It started off quiet and snickery, slowly escalating to giggles, then chuckles, before becoming full on guffaws. 

“I-I killed it!” he exclaimed, laughing hysterically, leaning against the pole more heavily. Loop after loop after loop he had been forced to sneak around this labyrinth, avoiding the ‘minotaur’, praying that its light wouldn’t spot him. So many times he had had his body shredded by claws, painfully aware of each and every tear before blissfully fading into death, only to wake up back again in this hellhole to do it all over again. Sheer dumb luck had been the reason he found this glorious weapon, along with some experimentation between loops, and it was all worth it at the end. Henry was even considering ignoring Alice when she asked for the weapon back, but he knew the story would take it from him either way. 

“My my, someone’s happy,” Alice’s voice cooed over the radios, and Henry tried to stifle his crazed laughter to listen to her. “ _Isn’t that just sweet~ Why, I wish I could be that happy too._ **But alas...SOMEONE HASN’T BROUGHT ME MY HEARTS YET!** ” she bellowed, subduing Henry, and his laughter came grinding to a halt. She was right; he still had to collect those horrible hearts for the “angel”. A frown replaced his grin, and Henry bent down to pick up the gun and the heart that had been dropped, scowling up at the elevator. “ _That’s better~_ Now **get to it.** ”

Before he continued on, Henry glanced back down at the Projectionist’s fallen body, his ‘eye’ completely shattered by his last bullet. “I’m sorry old friend…” he began, heaving the weapon onto a nearby crate to carry the hearts better, “but it was me or you.”


End file.
